The Fall
by DemetriaDumall
Summary: Hermione suffers a fall that changes her life. Minerva/Hermione mother/daughter. Please review!
1. The Fall

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything**.

*this story takes place in 1980*

**Chapter 1: The Fall**

* * *

Hermione did not know them, that was the couple staring up at her from the muggle photograph. Of course she knew their names and their relations but that was not really _knowing_ somebody, was it?

When she was very young she'd gone through a phase in which she demanded to know everything. Her great aunt Maurice, being a slightly harsh but sensible woman, had described it all with little concern for her age. She had told Hermione in a very monotone voice, that the people in the photograph were George and Jean Granger, that they were her parents, and that they were dead.

OOOOOOOOOOO

_"But why are they dead, Aunt Maurice?" The little girl with brown ringlets for hair demanded, stomping her foot loudly on the floor. "Why?"_

_The old woman sighed wearily. "Because they were unhappy."_

_"Just unhappy?"_

_"Doomed is more like it." She said with a distressed nostalgia. "You're father killed your mother, Hermione. Shot her in her sleep and then- and then turned the gun on himself. You don't remember it and that is a blessing in itself. Now I've had enough of this nonsense, shoo! Go work on your lessons."_

OOOOOOOOOOO

Hermione shuddered. She had been given the photograph that day. It was creased in odd places, torn at the right corner and faded majorly from years of studying, but it was everything she had of them.

Once, Hermione had asked Aunt Maurice for another picture but the woman had only scoffed and not so politely explained that she absolutely could not have anything of theirs in her house, after all she already had Hermione. Aunt Maurice had also enlightened the girl as to what the fate of a bit of their things was. She said, "All those photographs stroked my fire rather nicely. I can not imagine why I had that one- it must have been from the wedding invitation, mind you I didn't go, I always knew that boy was trouble and I told your mother so but she surely did not listen to me and look where that got her!"

Hermione sighed. Look where it got her indeed, look where it got both of them.

It was the eve of their death, needless to say she couldn't sleep. Hermione's feelings toward them were strange. She didn't know them so she could not exactly feel sad about it. She could however feel sorry for herself, sorry for all the things she missed out on and, logically, it would be insensitive not to acknowledge the date at all.

All the other girls in the seventh year, Gryfindor dorm were asleep, their breathing was slow and steady. It had to be nearing or past midnight and she had a full day ahead. Hermione closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Hermione was feeling incredibly tired and actually quite ill. She sat down unhappily at her house's table in the great hall, satisfied with being alone, only to be joined shortly by two of her closest friends. Nymphadora Tonks and Grace Drake.

"Morning." She mumbled grumpily.

Nymphadora cocked an eyebrow, smothering a piece of toast with grape jam. "Well, it's lovely to see you too!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, aren't you supposed to be at the Huffelpuff table? I'm sure they'll have trumpets and confetti for you there."

"What's confetti?"

"Never mind."

There was a bit of a silence. Grace cleared her throat. "Dora and I are going to the match today, I was going to ask if you wanted to come along but now I suppose not."

Hermione thought it over. She was being a bit of a brat, the date called for it but maybe if she got her mind off of death and murder and loneliness she be able to function normally after all. Besides she hadn't been to a match in a year. "I'll go with you, yeah."

"I just hope you know, Hermione," Nymphadora started sympathetically,"Gryfindor's not having the best season."

"Ugh, Dora, I'm not that clueless." She snipped. "It doesn't surprise me. Ever since James Potter left..." Hermione trailed off, noticing the blush on Grace's cheeks. "Are we honestly back to that?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The James thing?" Nymphadora said knowingly, mouth full. "Sorry to break it to you, Grace. The bloke didn't even know you existed."

Grace spluttered. "He handed me my quill once."

"Well you might as well get married, then." Nymphadora's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Oh that's right, he is married."

"I really can't stand you sometimes." Grace sighed.

After more bickering- from everybody, the three walked down to the Quidditch pitch and took seats on the front row.

Ravenclaw was the first to score and Nymphadora nearly got tossed out as she had decided to root for the team that was winning while standing on the other's side. It was rather cold and the wind gusted so violently that one of Ravenclaw's chasers got knocked off his broom. His arm was visibly broken and then the match was suspended for half an hour. They played for another hour, tied, another, still tied.

"For heavens sake!" Hermione moaned, leaning weakly on the railing. The noise of the previous hours had given her a headache so strong she felt as if she may faint. "How much longer can this go on?"

"Oh, I'd say a couple of months."

Hermione spun around, immediately recognizing a familiar voice.

"Professor!" She exclaimed, steadying herself clumsily.

McGonagall flashed a small smile at the girl's flustered manner. "I see you've managed to keep Miss. Tonks safe from the angry mob."

"Well, she certainly hasn't made that easy."

Dora shrugged innocently.

"I wonder, are you feeling quite alright, Hermione?" Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, she had quickly taken in to account her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

Hermione shrugged. "To be honest, no."

"Oh what a relief, I won't have to fight you on it. Come along then, we'll get straight to Madam Pomfrey."

Professor McGonagall began to push her way through the sea of students, jerking furiously when the crowd erupted into a cohesive roar. Gryfindor had finally scored, the match was over. She turned to grab Hermione's wrist but found that the girl was no longer standing near the rail, she had fainted over it and now lay motionless below.

* * *

Hermione came to slowly. Her vision adjusted to the white brightness of the room after a series of squints and she suddenly realized she lay in some sort of hospital.

"Bloody hell." She moaned over the blood pounding in her ears, slapping her hand over her eyes.

There was a quick clicking of heels and then a soft voice by her side. "There now, Miss. Granger." The woman cooed, placing a cool cloth on her forehead. "Stay still and I'll get you something for that headache."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a raspy voice.

"You fainted, my dear, at the Quidditch match yesterday."

"Quidditch?"

"Yes, Miss. Granger. Now drink this."

After the woman helped her sit up, Hermione accepted the vile.

"Ugh." She choked on the taste. "What was that?"

"A headache potion, Miss. Granger." The woman explained again, this time more slowly and watching the girl closely.

Hermione groaned once more, weakly falling back onto the pillows. "Why do I have such a bad headache?"

"Because you hit your head very hard."

"How?"

The woman inched closer, illuminating the tip of her wand and instructing the girl to follow it with her eyes. A few moments into the exam, Hermione began to cry.

The woman cancelled the spell quickly and sat down on the edge of bed. "What is it, dear?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" She wept with confusion. "Where is this? Who are you?"

The woman gasped, although the noise was quickly smothered. "This is Hogwarts, dear and I'm Madam Pomfrey. Can you tell me your name?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, her breath coming more and more quickly. "No. No I can't remember."

* * *

_**A/N: I'm rewriting this story which is old and from my previous account. If you're confused keep reading! Please review!**_


	2. For The Greater Good

**For The Greater Good**

"I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand, Minerva?" The color in Poppy's cheeks grew a shade darker. "The fall has compromised the part of the brain that stores long term memory, the Cerebral Cortex to be exact. I've consulted all the neurological healers at St. Mungos and we are all in agreement. Miss. Granger has lost all memory before the accident and it will not be regained. She will never remember."

"What do you _mean_?"

Poppy's eyes moved heavenward, only lowering to give Albus, who had been observing the scene quietly, a fiery glare.

The Headmaster cleared his throat, standing quickly. "I think you should sit, Minerva." He helped the dazed woman into a nearby chair and fumbled around in his robes for a lavender tin. "Lemon Drop?"

"Oh, for haven's sake, no!" Minerva weakly swatted the tin away. "Poppy- Poppy what do we do?"

The matron fidgeted under her gaze. "Well like I said there's no fixing it. She hardly knows her name, needless to say anything she's learned here or at her muggle school. It is rather ironic, given her- ah, well, you know..."

Her voice tapered off as Dumbledore swept across the room in an authoritative way. He popped a sweet into his mouth, thoughtfully taking his perch behind the desk.

"But there is always a solution, isn't there, Poppy?"

Pomfrey's shoulders shrugged wearily and she too took a seat adjacent to Minerva. "You won't like it. I certainly don't."

The air in the Headmaster's office felt very thick and constricting to Minerva, who was hanging on to Poppy's every word with anticipation.

"The other healers and I have concluded that the only way the girl will be able to lead a normal life is if we de-age her- permanently."

Despite herself, Minerva spluttered. "_What_? Don't be absurd, Poppy! Just listen to yourself. It's madness!" She turned to Albus fervently. "Tell her, tell her she's mad, Albus."

The Headmaster regarded Poppy, whose hand was now covering her eyes, in a puzzled manner, although his eyes were already beginning to twinkle widely. "My dear, a person can be mad and brilliant at the same time."

"You can't be serious!" Minerva shrieked, hopping to her feet. "Be reasonable, Albus!"

"I am." He smiled gaily and started an excited waltz across the room. "I am being so reasonable that it pains me. Poppy, how old would she be de-aged to?"

Pomfrey looked at him suspiciously, unexpected of his enthusiasm. "Eight months, and year maybe."

"Excellent! And now there's only her great aunt!"

"_Sorry_?" Both women chimed in unison. "I don't follow." Poppy finished.

"Just think! This is a very, _very_, excellent opportunity indeed!" He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to scribble on it in lavender ink. "Miss. Granger has had a rather unfortunate upbringing, hasn't she?"

Minerva nodded reluctantly.

"Well, we three all believe in second chances, correct? Now, I have a feeling that Great Aunt Maurice will not at all be pleased, so who is to raise her?"

He looked expectantly at Minerva over his half moon spectacles.

"_Me_?" She hissed. "You've got to be joking!"

"Why would I joke about something so meant to be?"

Minerva took a few steps backwards, shaking her head furiously. "I- I can't look after a baby! I'm a teacher!"

"The house elves will be at your service, my dear."

"I don't know anything about it!"

"I'm sure Poppy wouldn't mind lending a hand."

"But- but- there's a _war_ on!"

The headmaster's hunched posture relaxed. His excitement mellowed at this exclamation. "And that's why she needs you most of all. It looks as if this is going to happen one way or the other, Minerva, so it might as well be with somebody who loves her."

Breathing heavily now, Minerva looked back and forth from Poppy to Albus a few times before sighing. "Very well."

"It's settled, then!" He smiled, falling back into his chair contently. "I will speak to her aunt and the Ministry. Minerva will be her guardian."

Poppy, who had stood still with disbelief over the scene, clapped her hands together. "Brilliant."

* * *

The next day after a long trip to the Ministry, as Poppy and Minerva walked towards the Hospital Wing, potion in hand, the latter became rather deified.

"It all does seem rather unethical." She said, suddenly becoming annoyed with the loud clicking of both of their heels. "Don't you think?"

"No, I don't. She is under age and her guardian has given consent." Poppy threw her friend a sideways glance. "Rather you have."

"Oh for God's sake!"

Minerva stopped abruptly, becoming a ghastly shade of white.

"I can't do this. I really can't."

Poppy sighed, waiting for a seventh year Hufflepuff couple to pass by. "You can and you will. I hate to be quite so dramatic but I do believe it is for the greater good, Minerva. It's a second chance for both of you. You've signed the papers, nobody forced you to do that. Now get up and stop making a scene! What must be done must be done!"

And just like that Minerva had straightened up and was moving towards her new charge again. An unsuspecting girl who was about to experience a world of changes.

* * *

A/N: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I know it's short but oh well I'm not very motivated and not a very good writer. Thanks for reading. Merry Christmas!


	3. Growing Down

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything**

**Growing Down**

_"Will you stop!_"

Minerva slapped her hands down on her knees to keep from wringing them- apparently it had been wearing on Poppy's nerves, and looked to the clock in the corner of the matron's office. It had been nearly two hours since the potion to de-age Hermione was administered. Two whole hours spent in idle nervousness.

"Are you sure it's even working?"

Poppy looked down to the magical monitor that lay on her desk. It was monitoring Hermione's every move and function and she had been watching it closely.

"Oh, it's working, alright." She said, noting the diminishing levels of estrogen and cognitive function. "It's rather an extraordinary process, I must say."

"_For Merlin's sake_, Poppy! This isn't an experiment you're observing!" Minerva exclaimed irritably. "How much longer?"

Poppy sighed and threw her a hard look. "Minerva, for the third time, I haven't got the slightest idea. The Ministry doesn't just hand out this potion to anyone, you know? I've never seen this done."

"Well, brilliant."

Minerva slumped back into her chair. She was in a foul mood indeed. This whole business seemed wrong to her and yet she had signed the papers, she had taken the responsibility, she would have a baby to care for.

_A baby_.

The thought alone made her want to laugh. What was she, of all people, going to do with a baby? The only baby she had actually ever held was her brother's and that was nearly nineteen years ago.

Minerva huffed.

And there was that other thing. The thing about changing a sixteen year old girl back to her seven month old self. Sure, Poppy and Albus believed it was for the best but it really was a drastic measure. _A very drastic measure_.

If she had wanted a baby she would have had one, _she really would have_! t was completely ridiculous. And now there was to way to revert the potion. Perhaps, she was more concerned for her sake than Hermione's and that made her even more annoyed.

"_It's done_."

Minerva jolted away from her thoughts.

She and Poppy shared a brief, terrified glance before both clamoring to their feet and heading out into the empty wing. Minerva's heart pounded as they drew closer to Hermione's bed and she placed her hand on her chest to steady it.

The teenager had completely vanished, only the nightdress she had been wearing remained and now it lay pooled around a tiny figure. Poppy reached down and pulled the infant into the cool air. She immediately began to wail.

"What's wrong with her?" Minerva cried.

"Babies cry, Minerva. Nothing's wrong." Poppy said hastily, conjuring a lavender wool blanket and swaddling Hermione in it. "There we are, little one."

Minerva gulped, inching up closer to the bundle. "So she's... she's alright?"

The matron nodded, tucking the blanket a little tighter around the baby. "She's perfect."

The witch breathed a surprising sigh of relief. One minute into this whole motherhood thing and she was already feeling paranoid about the welfare of the little girl.

"Well- well, what now?"

"I-um- I suppose you should hold her, then."

"_Me_?"

"_Oh, for pity's sake_!" Poppy shifted Hermione into Minerva's unsure arms. "She won't bite."

"Are you quite sure?" She asked, fumbling with the baby before finding a comfortable position. Minerva looked down at her new charge with wide eyes.

She was a very lovely little thing with deep brown eyes and a tuft of chocolate coloured hair. The weight and warmness of Hermione in her arms awoke a maternal inclination in Minerva and she suddenly teared up. It was phenomenal. In a matter of moments the young girl she cared deeply for had transformed into a baby that she was infatuated with. That she immediately loved.

Minerva had a daughter now. A sweet, little girl that depended solely on her which was not a situation she took lightly. _Certainly not_.

Regaining her composure, the witch straightened up, unwilling to not get carried away with this tiny figure.

"Hello, Hermione." She stared in a firm, clear tone. "My name is Minerva McGonagall and I'm going to be taking care of you from now on. We better get one thing straight now, then. I'm determined to raise you right, so you had better behave yourself."

Poppy threw her a hard look. "She's seven months old, Min."

"Not too early to start."

Minerva thought she would take the same approach to parenthood as she did teaching. _She thought would, she did!_

"Poor little girl."

Minerva scoffed good humoredly, running a finger down Hermione's smooth cheek. "We're both getting something we've never had before, Hermione."

The baby smiled and snuggled closer to Minerva, closing her eyes peacefully. It felt meant to be. So much so that she didn't feel conflicted about the change anymore. Albus was right, as usual, and Minerva was very, very grateful now, that he had been.

"I can't believe it, Poppy." Minerva took her eyes off her new daughter for the first time. "I have a baby."

"Well, it's a girl!"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long... I went through a phase. Please review and hopefully more soon. Hopefully...**


	4. Just A Book

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything**

**Just A Book**

In the whole of the three months Minerva had been a, well, mother she had come into a very small amount of knowledge, in fact, only two true conclusions had been made. One, babies cry, for no apparent reason in most cases and two, she was absolutely, unquestionably, _unfit _for motherhood.

Presently, the six month old Hermione was wailing at the top of her, apparently not so little lungs. She had rejected a bottle, she didn't need a nappy change, and there were plenty of toys at her disposal. Minerva was positively vexed. She had been attempting to pack up her quarters in preparation to move to the McGonagall Manor for the summer when this episode had started and was unable to get anything done with that kind of screeching going on. At least the students were gone, for that she was wholly thankful.

The portraits on her walls sat empty, their occupants having left many moments ago covering their ears the whole way. One particularly grumpy lad had urged her to "_shut that damned thing up!_"

"Well, I certainly hope you'll get to the point soon, young lady!" Minerva said, pacing around the room, bouncing Hermione sporadically. "I know I've had just about enough of this nonsense! What do you mean by carrying on this way?"

No response. Obviously.

It was a times like this when Minerva thought she might have regretted taking on such a responsibility. Not that she would change it now, but there was always a certain thought in the back of her mind, _what if._ Overall she liked having someone to come home to, to love and to be loved by, but again, sometimes it seemed silly. She was a woman who had intentionally ignored her biological meaning only to have it thrown at her in her late middle age. It was exhaustingly wonderful, currently more exhausting than wonderful.

There was a flamboyant knock on the door which Minerva immediately recognized as Albus. Without hesitation she waved her wand, letting the door swing open to reveal an annoyingly jovial man, indeed.

"I am afraid the office became far too crowded for my taste, Minerva. It would seem that all of my portraits have invited guests." He cast a twinkling eye over to the empty frames on Minerva's walls. "I now see a jot of quiet time was required."

The woman stared at him hotly. "Yes, that's all very well for them, they certainly won't find it here." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I wish you'd refrain from smirking so. My patience is about as wide as one of those hairs on your head, Dumbledore."

At this he rightly laughed, his expression turning impossibly thoughtful. "_I wonder._" He mumbled, drifting over to one of her nearly empty bookshelves. He selected 'Hogwarts: A History' and turned to face his old friend. "If I recall correctly, Miss. Granger, rather, Hermione, was a fan of Bathilda Bagshot."

She shot him a dirty look. "For heaven's sake, Albus, I'm sure she was but that is of _absolutely_ no relevance now. You're an old bachelor, but I'm quite certain you know babies can't read."

"Yes. Yes, I did know that."

"_Well?_"

"I think this is a case of- of, shall we say, homesickness."

Minerva sighed, sinking into a nearby chair, still rocking the baby. "I've no time for your riddles and I'm in no mood for them either. She hasn't stopped crying for an hour, Albus, I don't know what to bloody do."

"Do something that you know she used to love." He opened the book and placed it on Minerva's lap for Hermione to see. Immediately the crying stopped. "Don't you see, my dear, she's still there. In a small way, no doubt, but she is."

Minerva stared dumbfounded. She should have been ecstatic, she should have been leaping for joy at the silence but suddenly it urked her. Poppy had said Hermione wouldn't remember a thing, not one thing and here she was being so like the girl she once was. What did that mean? Did that mean that Hermione would remember it all? When she could speak would question them? When she could walked would she try and get away? When she could think, really comprehend, would she hate them?

"No. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. _This is impossible!_ It can't happen. That's why I did this, Dumbledore, because she can't remember!"

"What are you talking about."

Minerva's eyes had gone wide. "She's going to know. She's going to know about it all."

"Calm down, Minerva." Dumbledore soothed. "I severely doubt that. I was simply suggesting that you may be able to please her more easily if she given things that have proven to make her happy for I do not believe we change that greatly from the time we are infants to the time we are elders. It's in her nature, my dear. She's just a little girl. It's just a book."

Minerva nodded, her anxiety falling greatly.

He was right, she liked to read, it was just Hermione no matter the age. She felt heart swell again at the thought. It was just the way her daughter was, her lovely, lovely baby.

The little girl reached for the book disparagingly, it was much too big for her tiny grasp.

Suddenly, Minerva smiled. "What do you say, my love? Do you think we could finish it before Summer's end?" She picked up the book for Hermione, who had leaned back into her mother comfortably, to see. "I think we can. I don't think we'll have any problem whatsoever with how smart you are."

"It would seem my miracle work here is finished." Dumbledore injected with a knowing grin.

"Oh shut it, you old coot."

He laughed again, eyes twinkling furiously. "Have a smashing holiday, ladies."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading and sorry it took so long. This story doesn't really have a plot so it's hard to write as you can tell. Please review if you can! Thanks!_


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